


I Shall Have Share In This Most Happy Wreck

by aralias



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Bachelor Party, Drunkenness, F/M, M/M, Multi, Post Gauda Prime, Trope Bingo Round 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 04:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/aralias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times/Thou never shouldst love woman like to me.<br/>Written for the B7 kink meme prompt: <i>On the night before his wedding to Blake, Avon's friends throw him a bachelor party. He must kiss and take a shot from everyone in attendance. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	I Shall Have Share In This Most Happy Wreck

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [An Apple Cleft in Two](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015947) by [aralias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/aralias). 



"I don't have to do this!" Avon shouted over the music thumping through the club.

"What?" Soolin shouted into his ear.

"I _said_ ,” Avon shouted back, “I don't have to do this. I'm the second most powerful man in the galaxy. I don't have to do anything I don't want to do."

"Except get married," Vila shouted.

Avon took a swing at him, but he was so drunk already it missed Vila's face by about a foot. Vila caught him and pushed him back towards Soolin.

"What did he say?" Tarrant asked loudly.

"He said he'd love to," Soolin said. She collapsed into giggles, something that was rare, but always charming. "Who's first?"

Dayna thrust her hand up into the air "Me! Pick me." The music continued to pound.

"Dayna!" Tarrant pronounced with solemnity, as though Dayna had won a great prize, and she punched the air as she stood.

"No," Avon said weakly, shaking his head. "No, no- Stay away from me. All of you," but the two per cent of his brain that wasn't drunk knew Dayna was a good choice for first in line. She was young, stunningly beautiful and female - all things he wouldn't be able to enjoy (except aesthetically) after tomorrow. Also, she definitely fancied him, which was more than he could say of the others. Why they wanted to do this was utterly beyond him.

"Brace yourself," Dayna said, and held out a small glass filled with amber liquid.

Avon squinted woozily at it for a moment, and then downed it. He coughed and gasped as it hit his brain. 

"For the drink?" he began, and then Dayna grabbed him and tugged him into a deep kiss. Avon wrapped an arm around her waist and heard Tarrant and Vila whooping, while Soolin laughed and laughed and laughed.

"He's a lucky man," Dayna said, grinning as she pulled back. Her eyes sparkled.

He was being played, it was ridiculous, but Avon felt amused and confident and reckless.

"Who's next?" he demanded of the floor, and the rest of them cheered.

"Me," Soolin said. "I want to get you before you throw up." She handed him a glass of something green.

"Charming," Avon said, and downed the shot. It was sharp and minty. He grabbed Soolin, who pressed a brief and unsatisfying kiss to his lips, and pulled away.

"Boo!" Tarrant shouted,and the cry was taken up by Vila and Dayna. _“Booooooo.”_

"Put your money where your mouth is," Soolin retorted. "Or rather, put your mouth where your mouth is-" she frowned, clearly too pissed to process this. "That doesn't make sense, does it?"

"Don't worry about it," Vila said, pressing a kiss to her cheek and then ducking out the way of her elbow. He passed Avon a shot glass.

Avon peered into it and handed it back. "Either I'm drunker than I realise, or there's nothing in this glass, Vila."

"Is that so?" Vila said. He glanced down, and then turned the glass on its head. "You're right. I must have needed something to steady my nerves before kissing Avon. I'll be back," and he disappeared off into the crowd.

"Me next, then," Tarrant said.

Avon took the glass of vodka from him, and downed it. It burnt into the back of his throat, and then Tarrant caught him round the face and pressed a wide, open kiss to his lips. Avon had kissed Tarrant most recently of all his former crew, and so it felt less strange, more natural. He was also rapidly losing his inhibitions with each successive glass of alcohol and each successive kiss. He pushed his tongue deep into Tarrant's mouth, and Tarrant laughed and pushed him away.

"Get off, Avon."

"Next! Avon shouted. _"Please."_

"It must be my turn by now," a crisp electronic voice said, just louder than the music. Avon bent down to waist level and focused on the small shot glass balanced on top of Orac's case.

"What is _this_?" he asked, picking up the glass. He sniffed it and started coughing. His eyes watered.

"WD40," Orac explained. "I believe you will find it both smooth and stimulating, Avon."

"Veto!" Avon shouted, rising to his full height again and swinging back towards Tarrant, who seemed to be in charge of this charade. "Tarrant? Surely - a veto."

Tarrant leant towards Soolin, who nodded. "Veto allowed," Tarrant declared. Avon swung round to Orac, his arms wide to show he bore no hard feelings.

"Organic discrimination!" Orac protested. 

“It’ll kill me,” Avon explained, bending down to computer-height again, feeling the absurd need to console Orac. That would be the alcohol - making things seem more important than they were. “Faster than the others.” He pressed a kiss into the plastic casing. 

“Here. Have another one of these,” Tarrant said, handing Avon another shot of vodka. “Don’t want you to get behind.” Another rush of warmth hit the back of Avon’s throat as he swallowed the contents. 

“And here we go,” Vila said, handing Avon one of two glasses of pink liquid. Avon clinked it into the glass Vila was still holding, they both downed the fiery pink whatever it was, and Avon grabbed Vila and kissed him. Again, more cheering from the floor. Vila’s hands pinwheeled at his sides, and Avon shoved him away, grinning. His head swam. 

“I suppose it must be my turn, then,” Jenna’s voice said.

Avon turned and took the glass of probably whisky from her. He drained it, but his taste buds were too confused to let him know whether his eyes had been right. He pressed up into Jenna’s space and swept her into a kiss, Jenna’s arms draped over his shoulders and she flicked the tip of her tongue against his when it pushed into her mouth. He swung her free.

She raised an eyebrow. Then she grinned. “Not bad.” 

Avon laughed, and then he remembered that something was not as it should be. “Wait,” he said, as his brain struggled to make connections for him, “weren’t you... at Blake’s party?” 

He stumbled round, and collided with the chest of his fiancé. 

“Hello,” Blake said, grinning down at him. 

“You’re not,” Avon said, his knees buckled and Blake caught him under the elbow, “supposed to be here. Are you?” He let Blake support him, and leaned backwards. _“Tarrant?”_

“No,” Blake said. “I’m not supposed to be here. Deva is a good man to have in tech support. He is an excellent advisor, and a good friend.” Avon could see the man in question, pinned between two young women on the way to the bar. Deva’s eyes were darting nervously between them, as he tried to extract himself. “What he is not,” Blake continued, “ is a good organiser of bachelor parties.” 

“So, we crashed yours,” Jenna shouted against Avon’s ear. 

“Do you mind?” Blake asked. 

Avon laughed weakly and hysterically against his chest. Whatever had been in Vila’s pink drink had been ridiculously potent. “No,” he said, damply into Blake’s shirt. 

“Do you think you’ll be able to stand tomorrow?” Blake asked, helping him up to eye level.

“I have no idea,” Avon answered honestly. 

“Well, that’s not a no,” Blake said. He pushed Avon gently backwards and handed him another shot glass. The liquid inside it was probably blue. 

Avon glanced up at him. “Will this help?” he asked.

“No,” Blake said, and Avon grinned and drained it, dropped it on the floor and dragged Blake into a kiss. 

Around them people were probably cheering. It was difficult to tell over the music and when Blake was kissing him, which made everything else seem to matter less. Blake’s arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him in and holding him up. _It’s the right choice,_ Avon thought, even though he’d already thought it before several times and while sober. He tightened his grip around Blake’s neck to bring the two of them closer together, and considered wrapping his legs around Blake’s hips or dragging him to the ground in front of everyone.

“All right, break it up,” Tarrant said good-naturedly, pulling him away. 

Avon let Blake continue to support his weight as he turned round towards the others. Vila and Dayna were laughing about something, Jenna and Soolin were dancing, and Blake’s good friend and advisor had apparently managed to finally extract himself from the bar melee. Now he was standing awkwardly to one side, holding what looked like a glass of white wine. 

“Very loud here, isn’t it?” Deva shouted in Blake’s direction. 

_“Deva!”_ Avon shouted. Deva turned to him, wide eyed and alarmed, and Avon pointed an unsteady finger at him and grinned. “You owe me,” he announced, “a shot.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Rain It Raineth Every Day](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032732) by [elviaprose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elviaprose/pseuds/elviaprose)




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